Deception
by MonPetitLoupDeMort
Summary: Alex needs some time to think after everything. How he goes about mulling over his life... Well, only he could explain, if anyone. Oneshot.


An Alex oneshot idea I just had to get out of my system before I could continue Lavender Sorrow. This has nothing to do with the Lavender Sorrow plotline and takes place after the second game.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Alex sat on the far side of the ruins of Mt. Aleph's ruins, in the lee of a large boulder. Just another day. After his escape from the rubble, not even one week past, he had been unable to concentrate, or even get his mind back on track. Things were so different now, and he still felt like the same old Alex everyone knew and hated. He had no illusions about that, or so he thought.

He had done the unforgivable and so could not be forgiven. Ever. It was almost a comfort, some sort of certainty in the unstable maelstrom of life.

Alone, again, as always.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

So many people gathered for clearing and rebuilding of Vale, from all villages near and far. No one noticed one extra pair of hands helping with the work, not even his brilliant blue hair and odd garb. Lifting and clearing without even one ounce of psynergy to help.

Empty smiles, brief words, faces that you have never seen before and will never see again. To soon for the return of heroes in a far off land, just everyday folk that will actually have to live with the consequences of a changing world, with no say in any of it. Cheerful and gruff and blunt, but people. People just like the blank faces in a thronging crowd you pass through and forget that day, only to find new ones the next and next. You move shift, constant motion, work. Still alone, but at the same time part of something. Something bigger and grander than all the tiny, insignificant lives that come together to make it.

Life will go on here; no one even knows your name or face, as they are likely never to. Life forces the depression out of you, clears you head. The hard labor helps you forget, helps you remember what's important.

Life goes on.

Everyone here depends on one another, trusts each other unequivocally. You know that if you stay here much longer, you won't want to leave at all. Which is what would be the worst of all. When evening comes everyone retires to the new inn, the first thing built, and when that fills up villagers offer up whatever crude huts have been temporarily erected. Offer them up to what could be bloodthirsty murderers or thieves for all they knew.

Life here keeps on moving at the lazy country pace everyone is accustomed to, no one believing tragedy could ever strike here, not even after it already has so recently.

You go through the motions of revelry with everyone else, no one aware that your every motion, every word is a deception. That didn't just start when you came to this place, but has always been, as far back as you can remember. No one has escaped the clutches of your deceptions, not even yourself. Even if knowing that fact should protect you from its truth, you still can't quite perfectly believe that it is true. Can't quite convince yourself to disbelieve that if you try hard enough it will be real. Anyway,the placedeception meets perception is where reality is born.

So you go on layering deception upon deception, so that when you do something truthfully, no one will ever know it. You remain hidden, protected, sheltered. Hurting and healing but never quite finishing either.

At a late hour you slip out the bed a villager has so graciously offered you and start getting ready to leave. You wonder if this one has any relation to the hero-children from this village, but will never know. And that's ok.

You leave, under cover of darkest night, and strike out back on your path.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Alex strode purposefully out of "town" and traveled all night. He felt better than in a long while, able to go on again. Alone again. There were times when he just needed to be a face in a crowd, just be no one, to appreciate the rest of the time. Or, at least, that was the explanation he gave himself. Truthfully, he may or may not have known his purpose for stopping in Vale that day. But it had served its purpose, and he was ready.

He was ready.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Thanks for your time.

-Kit


End file.
